


Morning

by writetheniteaway



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writetheniteaway/pseuds/writetheniteaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another Sunday morning..., which for the Kelly's means distractions and innuendo of course</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all like this one...please please please let me know what you think!!

“Morning.” He sneaks a kiss in from behind and keeps walking towards the stove in one fluid motion.

“Morning.” She answers, lost in her typewriter. He rolls his eyes and pours himself some coffee. It’s going to be one of those days again, where he’s fighting for her attention. “Want another cup?”

“Sure.” She still doesn’t look up. “Thanks.” He refills the mug sitting next to her arm, making sure to brush against her when he tips the pot back up. She makes a point to ignore the contact.

He watches her type, staring at her until she can’t help but look up at him. He just grins and takes another sip of coffee. It’s her turn to roll her eyes, then she returns to her work.

“Hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Whatcha workin’ on?”

“An article, Jack.” Her tone takes on the slightest tinge of impatience.

“About what?”

“Don’t you have work of your own to do?”

“You’re the only person I know who works on Sunday sweetheart.”

“Then go for a walk or something.”

“Come with me?”

“No.”

He reaches over the top of her typewriter and pulls both of her hands off the keyboard. “Why would I go if you weren’t coming with me?” He catches her eye and doesn’t look away until she’s blushing.

“Stop that.” She tells him.

“Stop what?” He leans further over her typewriter, still refusing to quit staring at her.

“Stop distracting me.” She has to really focus to keep herself from stammering.

“Not a chance.” He smirks, trapping her in a kiss. It takes her a few seconds to realize that she didn’t want him to do that, but when she remembers she wastes no time pushing him away. She uses a little more force than necessary and he winds up sloshing coffee all over himself.

“That’s what you get.” She rolls her shoulders back and refocuses on her work.

He grabs a washcloth from by the sink and mops up the table. He takes in the state of his shirt and declares it a lost cause. He pulls it off over his head and runs it under the sink to try and keep it from staining.

He turns around to glance at her when he hears the keys stop clacking, catching her staring. She ducks back down into her typewriter, her flush creeping all the way down her face. His grin is back, cocky as ever.

“Didn’t you have work that needed doing?”

“I’m trying.”

“What’s the matter?”

“You.” She didn’t think his smirk could get any wider, but it does. He dries his hands on the washcloth and returns to the table, choosing the chair next to her instead of across this time.

“What I do?” He reaches for one of her curls.

“Don’t you dare.” He does anyway.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m busy.”

“But it’s Sunday.” He’s got one hand in her hair and the other pulling hers off the keys.

“And I still have an article to write.” She doesn’t try and take her hand back, she just lets it sit in his, non-committed but not rejecting him.

“But there are so many other things you could do today.” He closes the space between them, foregoing debating in exchange for kissing her cheek, her neck, anywhere he can reach without her pulling away.

“Such as?” She tries, unsuccessfully, to hide the hitch in her voice.

“I’m sure you can think of something.” He stops teasing long enough to say.

“So could you.” Now she does try and untangle from him, because if she doesn’t there’s no way anything productive is going to happen today.

“Already did.” He releases her hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her waist, making it even more difficult for her to free herself.

“Can’t it wait?” He shakes his head no, closing what little distance there was between them to kiss her again.

She wants to tell him that being a cocky shirtless nuisance is not the way to get her attention, and that no, he is not allowed to kiss her until she can’t breathe. She wants to tell him to let go of her and go find a way to preoccupy himself so that she can be responsible and get her work done. But he’s warm, stubborn, and hell bent on distracting her. And it’s working.


End file.
